


Not Broken

by rinthegreat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Date, Fluff and Angst, M/M, former swimmer!Shiro, olympic swimmer AU, swimmer!Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 05:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12450843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: Shiro doesn't know how to react when the famous Olympic swimmer, Lance Pérez, calls him his hero. Especially when their first meeting isn't their last.





	Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> so i actually wrote this a long time ago for the potential zine as a continuation of [this post](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/post/161641384517/how-about-something-with-shance-or-makorin) (also the first 250 words here) because there were some requests for more and i also had Ideas. it was betaed by the absolutely wonderful[thislittlekumquat aka waffledemon](https://twitter.com/waffledemon) who does most of my works as you can see.
> 
> anyway this is one of my favorite shance AUs i've written, so i really hope you guys enjoy it! <3

“Holy shit, are you Takashi Shirogane?”

Shiro turns at the voice, already wincing at what usually follows the question. Instead, he finds himself face to face with a certain Olympic champion and usurper of his title as the Fastest Man in the Water.

“Um…yes?” His brain short-circuits, because there’s no way he’s ready for this encounter. It may have been ten years since the accident, but reminders of his past life still trigger him as if it happened yesterday.

“Holy shit.” Lance Pérez – **The** Lance Pérez – fumbles with the bags in his hands, dropping half his groceries on the sidewalk. Lance doesn’t give them a second glance, instead approaching with a single-minded focus, phone outstretched as his can of peaches rolls on the ground between them. “Can I get a selfie with you?”

Shiro blinks twice at that. He can’t even remember the last time anyone asked him for a selfie – wait, yes he can: it was four months ago at a concert, but it was Keith and therefore didn’t count – so he malfunctions, searching for the expected response. “Um…sure?”

Lance pushes right up into his space, holding the phone at arm’s length. He snaps a few pictures while Shiro tries to remember how to smile, before finally lowering his arm. “Dude, thank you so much. You’re my hero.”

Shiro stands there, completely lost for words while Lance cleans up his fallen food from around them, not even responding when Lance grins and waves his goodbye.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Shiro gets home and plugs his phone in to charge, he has fifteen unread messages and three missed calls. Mostly from Keith. Fearing the worst – that Keith has finally snapped and murdered someone – he immediately hits redial.

“What the fuck, Shiro?” is the greeting he gets.

“Are you ok?”

“Am I – are you serious?”

Shiro falters at Keith's irritation, not usually directed at him. “You called three times and sent ten texts...”

“Oh my god.” The words are fainter than before. Shiro can practically see Keith rubbing his hand over his face, exasperated. “You really ought to lift that Twitter ban on yourself, Shiro,” Keith finally tells him, voice louder than before – he's closer to the phone now.

“I don’t like Twitter.”

“You could’ve at least told me you met Lance Pérez. Seriously, what the fuck.”

“How do you know about that?”

“You’re trending right now.”

Shiro pulls the phone from his ear. He hesitates, not having googled himself in years, but curiosity wins. Sure enough, the search terms ‘takashi’ + ‘shirogane’ + ‘lance’ + ‘perez’ yield results mostly on Twitter and Instagram, all of them with one of the selfies Lance had taken of them. He clicks the original tweet – how are there over 3000 retweets already – and checks out the expanded picture.

[Guess who I ran into shopping today? @takashi-shirogane #heroworship]

“Shiro? Did you have a heart attack? Shiro?” Keith’s shout is loud enough he can hear it without the speaker.

He takes a quick screenshot before he can change his mind, and brings Keith back to his ear. This is one memory he never wants to lose. “Yeah, I’m here,” he says, hearing his own voice as if it were coming through a tunnel.

A pause, then, “I’ll be right there.” The call ends in a click.

He stares at the screenshot again, probably longer than is healthy. In the picture, he looks bemused –exactly how he’d felt – barely even half-smiling at the camera. His scar stands out, a blight on his face and the reason he doesn’t own mirrors or have any photos of himself anymore. But really the most striking part of the picture isn’t him; it’s Lance. Lance isn’t smiling, he’s _beaming_ into the camera, his lips cracking his face so wide, as if this were the best thing to ever happen to him. Lance, holder of the world record in the 50 m Free. The guy known as ‘The Next Michael Phelps’. He looks as if seeing Shiro, the _shame_ of the swimming community, at a _grocery store_ is the best thing to happen to him.

And where Shiro is scarred and hideous, Lance is…the complete opposite. He shines brighter than the sun, his skin perfectly smooth and unblemished. Shiro gets lost in his smile, the straight lines of his teeth and the contrast between them and his lips. And his eyes…they’re the deepest blue Shiro’s seen, more pure than the ocean itself. Lance is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life, even more beautiful in person than on the screen. (Shiro would be lying if he claimed he hasn’t been following Lance’s career with an obsession Keith would call ‘unhealthy’ if he knew the extent of it.)

#heroworship

Those words – the entire post – will haunt him until the day he dies. The thought that someone like _Lance_ once looked up to him? It’s everything he’d ever wanted and nothing he ever deserved.

“Shiro!” The shout is followed by a slam of the door, and Shiro locks his phone, setting it down as if having it near him would be evidence enough of what he’d been doing.

He stands up, wiping his palms on his pants and heads into the kitchen before Keith goes nuts. “I’m in here.”

Keith skids in the room, giving Shiro a slow once over. “I don’t know why you’re so worried –“ Shiro starts only to be cut off.

“I’m calling Pidge.”

“Don’t call Katie…” Once again, Keith ignores his wishes, texting before Shiro can do more than sigh at him. “Keith. You’re being ridiculous. I’m fine. It’s been years.”

“You’re not fine,” Keith says, locking his phone and slamming it on the counter.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Keith, I think I would _know_ if I weren’t fine.”

“Where’s your phone?”

Shiro frowns, not liking where this is going. “In the living room, why?” But Keith is already storming past him. “Keith!”

His brother gets to the coffee table before him, snatching his phone up. Shiro should be more concerned that Keith apparently knows his lock code, because two seconds later he hears a scoff and his own screen is being shoved in his face. He’d forgotten to close the picture. “You’re fine. Really? Shiro this is your phone’s _gallery_. You took a screenshot of the tweet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There is when he’s your replacement who admitted he hero-worships you.”

Shiro closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his prosthetic. Pidge isn’t even here yet and he’s already exhausted. “Keith.”

“Shiro.”

He knows his brother is staring at him, daring him to say something, but Shiro ignores him. It works until Pidge arrives, slamming the door behind them – when did they even get a key – and shouting “What the fuck!”

“Language.” The response is automatic, drawing his gaze back up from the palm of his hand. He ignores the look of triumph on Keith’s face.

Pidge appears around the corner, brandishing the very picture that has damned Shiro for the rest of his life already. “Lance Pérez? Really Shiro? You could do so much better.”

“We just met, Pidge. I’m not dating anyone.”

“You’d be dating my brother if you weren’t both such ditzes.”

Like he said before, exhausting. “Matt and I aren’t going to date. Drop it.”

“He was staring at his phone until I came in the door, just looking at that photo.” How Keith knows that is beyond him.

“Of course he was.”

“Guys, seriously. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care anymore, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

The two of them exchange glances but at least drop the subject. For now. He expects to hear about it again if Keith ever sees that he changed his phone background.

 

* * *

 

 

One week after the Lance Incident – Pidge named it – Shiro ends up at the grocery store again. It’s less crazy this time, not having Lance around to drop his groceries all over the ground just for a selfie. A little too quiet, Shiro thinks, but at least his life is starting to get back to normal. He gets all his shopping done and is heading out when he hears a shout.

“Shiro!”

He turns at the sound of his name, coming from an only somewhat familiar voice, and catches sight of the smile that has starred in his dreams for the past week. Lance jogs to him, slowing down once he catches up.

“Is it okay if I call you Shiro?” Dumbly he nods. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with your first name, and Shirogane is kinda a mouthful.” He grins up at Shiro, as if expecting a response, but all knowledge on human interaction seems to have vanished from his mind. Luckily, Lance continues, unwavering in his determination. “You know I kept coming back, actually. I was hoping I’d run into you again, but when you didn’t show up all week I thought maybe you didn’t really live in the area or usually went to a different grocery store or something.”

Finally, Shiro finds his voice, though it does nothing but embarrass him further. “Who goes grocery shopping more than once a week?”

Lance laughs at that, filling the entirety of Shiro’s torso with rabid butterflies. “I guess you have a point there.”

It takes until that moment for Shiro to notice that Lance isn’t carrying any groceries of his own this time. “Did you want to go back in and get something?”

To his surprise, Lance flushes. His skin turns a shade of red that Shiro would paint his room with if given the chance. “I, uh, didn’t actually need to come to the store.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Shiro blushes in response, trying not to read too much into things. Lance already admitted that he looked up to Shiro, even hero-worshipped him. Anyone would hang around a grocery store every day for an entire week to meet their former role model. Right?

He’s so wrapped in his own thoughts, he doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent. At least not until Lance says something again. “Ah…I’m sorry. I come on really strong, I know that. Didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. It was kinda weird, right? Hanging around a grocery store for god’s sake…” He lets out a chuckle that sounds forced even to Shiro’s ears. He turns to look at the Olympian; Lance isn’t looking at him. Instead, he’s staring intently down at the sidewalk, giving Shiro a nice view of the back of his neck. The same shade of red is present there, as well as the tips of his ears. Shiro wonders if it’s as warm as it looks.

“I…uh…” He clears his throat, feeling a squeak coming on. “I don’t mind.” Had he more courage, he’d ask Lance out. See if he’d want to go to dinner, maybe walk along the beach since his Instagram has an insane number of pictures of the ocean. Not that Shiro looked. But instead all he can say is that he _doesn’t mind_. Lance’s hero worship is about to die the most anticlimactic death there is.

Lance looks over at him, capturing his gaze, and Shiro gets lost in the blue. He wants to kiss Lance so badly, and they haven’t even held a normal conversation. His eyes drop to Lance’s lips as the swimmer’s tongue darts out, wetting them, and _shit_ Keith was right; he’s never going to live this down –

“I don’t…” Lance pauses, and Shiro’s eyes dart back up. Lance’s cheeks are pink now, no longer red, but it’s possibly even lovelier. “I don’t want to read too much into things but…would you want to maybe get dinner?”

Shiro trips over nothing.

Lance catches his arm – his real arm – as Shiro rights himself, no doubt the color of a tomato. Or a ghost. He can’t tell if he feels flushed or faint, but he _is_ positive that he died and went to heaven, because he can’t remember the last time anyone asked him on a date. Let alone someone as beautiful as Lance.

“Are you ok?”

Shiro licks his lips, finding them suddenly dry. “I…uh….” Words, around Lance, are clearly never going to happen.

Lance releases his arm, backing away. “Got it. No hard feelings. Maybe just don’t tell anyone I embarrassed myself like this –“

“No!” Shiro cuts him off, reaching out and snatching Lance’s elbow before the swimmer can get too far away. He flinches and lets go the minute he realizes he’d grabbed with his prosthetic instead. “I want to. I just didn’t expect it.”

Lance gives him a look like Shiro grew a second head. “You didn’t? Dude I basically admitted on social media that I’ve had a thing for you forever.”

“But I’m broken,” Shiro blurts before he can stop himself. He backtracks immediately. Lance is absolutely the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life, _and_ he has talent on top of it. The very last thing he should be doing is push him away. Yet here he is, doing just that.

“Broken?” Lance sounds out the word, as if it were foreign on his lips. “No you’re not.”

Shiro can’t help but dig himself deeper, gesturing – with his prosthetic, of course – to his face, his body. He’d stick out his leg too, but that might be going too far. Besides, there’s no way Lance _doesn’t_ know what all is wrong with him; his fall from grace had been big news in the swimming community for a while. “This isn’t something that’s whole.”

Lance glares at him. “Takashi Shirogane. I’ve known you all of about twenty minutes now and I can assure you that you are most definitely _not_ broken.”

He says it with such conviction it takes Shiro aback. He _is_ broken, he knows he is, but the way Lance insists he isn’t…

Makes him feel whole again. Even if just for a moment.

“What kind of date?” He asks, not wanting to argue, because he knows it will for sure be an argument.

“Um…well I was thinking maybe something simple? Dinner and then maybe walk on the beach?”

Somehow, Shiro’s immensely proud of having figured out the ideal first date. He can’t help but smile a little. “I’d love to,” he murmurs, earnest.

Lance beams, his smile so bright he could blind the sun. “Can I have your number? We can talk about when a good time is for you?”

“Tonight is good,” Shiro blurts before he can stop himself. Wow, that sounds incredibly desperate.

If Lance thinks he’s too eager, he’s not turned off by it. He pushes his phone into Shiro’s hands for Shiro to enter his number, then as soon as he gets it back he types rapidly. Shiro’s phone vibrates in his pocket. “Now you have my number. I’ll pick you up at six? Seven maybe? I’ll need to see if the place will take a reservation this late…” Lance trails off, pink still high on his cheeks.

“We can go another time if you –“

“No!” Lance interrupts. “Tonight is good. Really, _really_ good. I’ll call you. Text me your address so I can pick you up okay?”

“Yeah…okay…” Shiro stands there, more than a little bemused as Lance races off again. This is starting to become a trend with them, he thinks.

 

* * *

 

 

When Keith finds him, he’s standing in front of his closet, wearing just his slacks and holding two different shirts in his hand. He hates everything he owns, suddenly. Everything is either too formal or too casual, and all of his nicer button ups hang too loose on his frame to cover up his prosthetic. Not something he wants to wear on his first – and likely only – date with Lance.

“This place is a disaster,” Keith greets him when he walks in. Shiro looks around at the rejects strewn across his floor and bed.

“I hate all my clothes.”

Keith regards him for a moment before sitting on the bed. “Are you that nervous?”

Is he that nervous? What a ridiculous question. “Of course I am.”

Ever since he and Lance had parted ways at the grocery store, all the ways the date could go wrong have been going through his head. What if Lance was just messing with him? What if he gets stood up? What if Shiro spills his entire dinner on himself and Lance decides he’s not worth it? What if they go walking on the beach and he gets sand between his joints and has to clean them out and Lance changes his mind about Shiro not being broken?

Keith is up in a moment, hands on Shiro’s shoulders, as he guides him to sit on the bed. “Listen to me, Shiro. You’re a catch. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my brother. He would be an idiot if he doesn’t want you. If he doesn’t fall immediately in love with you, then I will hunt him down and beat him to a pulp.”

Shiro snorts. Keith, as always, is quick to temper. For some reason he’s had it out for Lance since he’d been nicknamed ‘The Next Shirogane’. It makes Shiro wonder why he’s helping him at all.

“Shiro…ugh.” Keith tears at his hair. “Never tell him this, but I think he might be good for you.”

“You haven’t even met him, _and_ you kept saying you hate him.”

“True. But I’ve seen the smile on your face when you go through his Instagram when you think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Shiro looks down at the two shirts still in his hands. “I barely even know him either.”

Keith sighs, grabbing both shirts from him and tossing them to the floor. He goes into Shiro’s closet and pulls out an old black tank top, his favorite from before his accident. He’s too attached to get rid of it, so instead it stays tucked in the back of his closet. “Wear this one. He’ll love it.”

“But –“

“I don’t care and he won’t either. If you’re really his hero like he said, that means he already knows all about that. And your leg and your scars. Put on a sweater over it if you’re nervous.”

Loathe though he is to admit it, Keith is right. It’s his favorite shirt and if he puts a sweater on over it, he’ll feel more relaxed. He takes it and tugs it on, grabbing a sweater just as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it. You finish getting ready.” Keith disappears down the stairs.

Shiro fixes his hair, his eyeliner, and shoves his clothes back into his closet. He doesn’t expect to bring Lance home – not on the first date certainly – but that doesn’t mean he wants to come home to a pit. One last glance in the mirror – a mistake, he grimaces – and he heads downstairs.

Lance and Keith are standing in the kitchen, arguing heatedly.

He shouldn’t be surprised, yet somehow he is. They’re arguing over bands from the sounds of it, their debate heating up with every word. He needs to interrupt them before they come to blows about MCR’s breakup.

He clears his throat. “Hey, Lance.”

As if a switch were flipped, Lance immediately drops the subject. “Shiro! Hey –“ He turns his head, cutting off his sentence before it even starts. The flush that Shiro thinks he might be addicted to colors Lance’s cheeks. “You look…really nice.”

As if Lance has room to talk. He looks like a gorgeous blue water god, blessing every surface he touches with memories that will never fade. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” he manages, voice husking in his nervous state. Keith snorts.

“Ready to go?” Lance asks, offering his hand. It’s the wrong side, Shiro wants to feel the warmth of Lance’s skin against his own. But he takes it anyway, letting Lance lead them to the door.

“I want him back by eleven!” Keith shouts from the kitchen. Lance bristles, but Shiro just chuckles, tightening his fingers slightly around Lance’s hand. They part to put on their shoes, and when Lance reaches for him again, it’s with the correct hand this time.

He’s warm, his skin soft and un-calloused. Lance walks close enough for their shoulders to brush, and with every shift of his head, Shiro catches a whiff of his shampoo and an undercurrent – never removable, he knows – of chlorine.

Lance chatters as they walk, telling Shiro about everything from his family (large and boisterous) to his friends (supportive and talented in their own ways) and even his practices. “Oh…sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about that, do you?” He asks, hand twitching nervously in Shiro’s grasp.

Shiro just grips him tighter, so Lance can’t pull away. “I don’t mind.” Maybe at one time he would have, but somehow he can’t seem to be offended when he’s hearing it from someone who cares so much. As much as he had once cared himself.

Lance takes him to a nice seafood restaurant on the pier, stating his name confidently when the hostess asks if he has a reservation. But when she goes to check if their table’s ready, he suddenly turns to Shiro. “Oh, shit. I forgot to ask. Do you like seafood? You’re not allergic or anything, right?”

Shiro chuckles at Lance’s obvious nerves, having a hard time remembering when he last laughed this much. “I’m not allergic to any foods that I know of. And seafood is” – not his favorite – “fine. Really. This is a nice place.”

Seemingly placated, Lance turns back as the hostess arrives to lead them to their table. It’s a nice restaurant. Really nice. He swallows, nervous, as they take their seats – Lance pulls out his chair for him before Shiro can stop him – and glances around.

His stomach sinks. He can’t afford this place.

Lance distracts him from his thoughts, brushing his foot against Shiro’s leg as he pulls his chair in. “Um…I never thought I’d get a date with you, so I kinda pulled out all the stops with this…err, at least as many as I could with short notice,” Lance tells him, red-faced.

“Pulled out all the stops?” Shiro’s own face heats. He’s sure they’re both blushing messes when the waiter comes over and pours water for them both.

“Your first course will be here in a few moments. Is there anything I can get you before then?” The waiter asks.

Shiro frowns. They hadn’t even gotten a menu let alone ordered. “What?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. I should’ve probably asked before. Is there anything you don’t really like? I told Hunk to surprise us…” Lance twitches, fingers tapping on the tablecloth.

Shiro’s definitely missing something. The waiter looks between the two of them and clearly decides it’s better to leave them alone to discuss this, because he walks away. “I’m…confused.”

“My friend, Hunk, the one I was telling you about? He’s the chef here. That’s how I was able to get in on short notice.”

Oh. That makes a lot more sense.

“We can go. It’s ok. I’ll owe him for it later, but it’s no big deal. I didn’t even ask you –“

“Lance.” Shiro cuts him off before he can work himself too deep into a panic. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

Lance’s shoulders drop several inches in relief. “Oh thank god. I don’t really have a backup plan.”

Shiro laughs outright at that.

He laughs two more times throughout the meal. When the first dish arrives, he stares at it – it’s way too small. Lance notices and cracks up, telling him that it’s a five course meal…he hopes. The uncertainty is what makes him laugh. The next time he laughs is when the waiter leaves Lance the check, and Lance nearly drops it on the ground in his effort to keep Shiro from seeing the cost. “No way. You are worth every penny times a thousand. Promise.”

Shiro’s still in a good mood when they make it to the beach, feeling higher than he has in a long time. Since the accident.

Lance takes off his shoes once they get there, abandoning them on the sand as he runs into the surf. He’s in his element out there, splashing around and getting the bottom of his pants wet. With the fading sunset in the background, he looks ethereal.

Shiro sits by his shoes, telling himself he’s guarding them, but in reality he just wants to watch Lance. Lance splashes around a little longer, laughing loud enough Shiro can hear him, before he turns and they make eye contact. He runs back almost immediately.

“Come on, Shiro! The water feels nice, promise.”

Shiro bites his lip, nervous again. The date’s been going great but…“I’d rather watch you,” he lies.

“It’s no fun without you,” Lance pouts.

Shiro hesitates, before finally admitting the real reason. “My leg…”

Lance’s eyes widen, almost comically if not for the situation. “Oh shit. I forgot. Can it not get wet?”

“No…it can. Sand gets caught in it though, then I have to clean it out. Also, it’s not –“

“I’ll clean it.”

Shiro blinks. “What?”

“I want to walk in the surf with you. So I’ll clean it out after. It’s only fair.”

No one, not even Keith, has ever offered to clean out his limbs. When he first got them, Keith and Matt helped because they had to, but after a few months he didn’t need it anymore and they stopped. “I can clean it myself.”

“No I…I want to,” Lance admits. “We can stay in sight of our shoes. Come on.”

He can’t think of another reason why not, so he pulls off his shoes, setting them next to Lance’s. They both roll up their pants, to keep them from getting wet – though Lance’s already are – and the swimmer grabs Shiro’s hand, pulling him back towards the ocean.

The water’s cold, the sand coarse, but it’s the best thing in the world. They splash each other a few times – Lance shot first, Shiro swears – before Lance grabs Shiro by the hem of his sweater, pulling him in. The kiss is like two magnets meeting for the first time. Lance’s lips feel amazing – soft with a slick of Chap Stick – and he is loath to let him go.

“You’re really pretty,” he says before he can stop himself.

Lance laughs, breath ghosting over Shiro’s mouth. He wants to capture his lips again. “You’re one to talk. You’re gorgeous.”

“Even with the scars?” Shiro asks; once again the words leave his mouth without permission.

Lance’s hand tightens against his waist. “You’re more than your scars or your past, Shiro.”

“You don’t even know me,” Shiro breathes. It’s his biggest fear, he realizes. That Lance will find out what he’s really like and disappear, taking all the light with him. He hasn’t even known Lance more than a day, and he’s already attached. One act of kindness was all it took to get him hooked.

Lance looks away, out at the sun dipping below the water. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was actually on the same team as you, back before you made it to the Olympics.”

Shiro starts. “What?”

Lance steps back, away from his embrace, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. It was only for a year before you moved to train with other Olympic potentials, but I was part of the Garrison Swim Team.” And now that Shiro thinks about it, really wracks his memory, he thinks he might remember a loud Cuban boy, boasting about his speed and future as an Olympian, even as he swam in the slowest lane.

“That was you?”

“I joined the team so I could train with the famous Takashi Shirogane, future Olympian in the making. I told you: you were my hero.”

“What about what everyone said? About the DUI –“

“That’s not true, though. Is it?”

Honestly? Shiro doesn’t remember. One of the worst side effects of the accident is the memory loss of that night. Keith swears up and down that he’d been sober when he left the party – a party he can’t even recall – but too many others insisted they saw him with a drink in his hand the whole night. Add to that the empty bottles in his car and the fact that Keith had been wasted – luckily he wasn’t in the car too when Shiro crashed – and Shiro just…

“I don’t know.”

“Let me tell you then,” Lance says, sounding more serious than he had all night. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past, and no one died. No matter what the reason was, it doesn’t take away any of the accomplishments you’ve had, and it doesn’t make you any less of a person. I looked up to you before, and I still do now. You’re amazing, Shiro. A couple man-made limbs aren’t going to change my opinion on that.”

“I don’t lead a very exciting life anymore, Lance. There’s nothing…interesting in dating me.”

“ _You’re_ interesting,” Lance insists. “And if you agree to keep dating me, I’ll tell you that every single day until you believe me.”

“You could sell the clothes off a man’s back, couldn’t you?” Shiro jokes, voice breathy because wow. Just…wow. Lance’s compliments fill him to the brim, make him almost believe that he is worth more than his failures.

“Believe in me, Shiro.”

“I do,” he gives in finally. Because he does, he really, _really_ does. If anyone can make Shiro feel hopeful, it’s this sunshine boy usurper.

Because his feet haven’t touched the ocean or a pool in years, yet here he is in the surf.

Because he can’t remember the last time someone recognized him and had anything kind to say at all.

Lance pulls him in close again. “Good, because I had about five more speeches prepared if you tried to say no.”

Shiro doesn’t get home ‘til after midnight.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/rinthegreat_ao3) to see updates, other projects, [shorter works (tumblr only)](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/tagged/cat-writes-fanfiction), and ways to support me! :)


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